


Show Me Your Smile

by kashewmoo



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9503585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashewmoo/pseuds/kashewmoo
Summary: Sometimes we do things that are surprising even to ourselves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=10050523) image.

In a world where junior players such as Yukimura and Tezuka ruled the middle school tennis circuit, not many would consider Shiraishi remarkable nor particularly memorable. While he did beat Fuji Syuusuke once much to the dismay of all onlookers cheering for the victory of Seigaku, he wasn’t often compared to the likes of the very top like Yukimura or Tezuka, nor the flashy like Sanada and Atobe. Even on his own team he was overshadowed by members such as the former member of the Two Wings of Kyushu who was known for his ability to tap into one of the doors of Muga no Kyouchi, Chitose, or even Tooyama who, despite his young age and relative inexperience in the tennis world, was thought to house a limitless amount of potential while competing in the top tier of junior players middle and high school alike.

By comparison, Shiraishi was really quite plain - known not for his ability to pull ridiculous stunts out of his ass in order to secure a point, but instead for his ability to maintain composure even when he was pushed beyond his level of patience. His style of play was nicknamed “Bible tennis” for his fundamentals were flawless, and he executed things like logic and reasoning to deduct why the bullshit moves were bullshit and easily returnable. Granted, maintaining composure and being known as “Mr. Perfect” didn’t stop him from losing his temper on occasion, offering very much unwanted but yet necessary advice (as he saw it) to his opponents in order to open their eyes into becoming a better version of themselves. After all, he was still fifteen, and fifteen year olds often acted against what was normally expected of them.

Zaizen liked to think that he was immune to this side of his captain, but the reality was that as a member of his team you would find yourself at least once experience being on the other side of the net, feeling very much like you were being yelled at it. Zaizen was absolutely no exception.

It was one of the many qualities of Shiraishi that Zaizen appreciated, anyway. Shiraishi was no doubt kindhearted and a complete goofball at heart, but he did have an edge, and Zaizen liked the fact that Shiraishi could still occasionally take him off guard despite knowing him for nearly two years.

Zaizen himself had once been able to accomplish the same thing with the tables turned to Shiraishi, though it hadn’t been with much effort on Zaizen’s part.

In his first year, not long after the entrance ceremony, he found himself under recruitment by the then-small numbered Shitenhouji tennis team. His upperclassmen had devised an elaborate plan to convince him to join the tennis team by attempting to make him laugh with juvenile tactics that would only be hilarious to a grade schooler at best. It was after the almost pathetic display of humor by the vice captain that he pointed out that it would have been more effective to simply _ask_ him to observe practice, and after the slow dawn of realization on their faces, Zaizen found himself dragged to practice without so much as an appropriate pair of shoes.

When he had displayed at least a basic understanding of how to hold a tennis racquet, he was paired with Koishikawa against the Shiraishi and Oshitari pair. Zaizen couldn’t say for sure what they had been expecting when he hit a service ace against them, but the puzzled expressions on their faces had only proven that it probably wasn’t anything of real substance at the time. While both Shiraishi and Oshitari were solid players, Zaizen didn’t think either of them were particularly remarkable for being two key members of the team. Zaizen had dominated the court easily with his ability to quickly analyze and determine where on the court the ball was going to bounce, and then subsequently return it just out of either of their reaches.

Where Zaizen had unknowingly turned the tables on Shiraishi was not in the way that he spoke to the captain - though his infamous line of, “You play nothing but textbook tennis,” was still brought up during team outings - but instead made Shiraishi realize that he had been so focused on drilling the fundamentals into his teammates that he had unintentionally squashed what made each of his teammates unique. It was from that moment that Shiraishi deviated so far from his own “textbook tennis” that the shot he hit back to Zaizen surprised him so much that he couldn’t so much as move a muscle as the ball whizzed straight past him.

Naturally, that same day was also the second time when Shiraishi would do something that seemed so much against his character that Zaizen couldn’t do anything but laugh. It was unfortunate that “ecstasy” had become Shiraishi’s catchphrase following the incident, but it was those moments and the moments that would follow later on that Zaizen genuinely believed set Shiraishi apart from the other high leveled players.

Amongst the obvious choices like Yukimura and Sanada for the U17 Japan team, Shiraishi was also selected to play in the World Cup along with Tooyama and Ishida. Although Zaizen hadn’t been around to personally witness it, the doubles match in which Shiraishi and Kirihara had been paired was said to be one of the shining moments of the whole camp, and displayed a whole new side of both players that likely contributed to securing their spot on the team. Shiraishi was the much needed levelheaded and composed member of the group surrounded by the Nious and Tooyamas, and Zaizen was certain that Shiraishi would have his shining moment not just in the camp, but on the world stage, too.

It was almost humorous the way that the respective teams of each player would group together and push forward to the fence when it was a teammate entering the court, but Shitenhouji was far from the exception. Konjiki and Hitouji led the way hand in hand, Oshitari and his cousin following not far behind. Zaizen brought up the rear with Koishikawa. Chitose had wandered off likely to meld against Tachibana’s side since they seemed to have been doing a lot of that lately, and the remaining three members of their team were absent for obvious reasons.

The moment a familiar ash blond head emerged from within the waiting area that Team Japan had claimed, the usual cheers began.

“Shiraishi!” Oshitari had both his fists in the air in what was likely supposed to be a display of surge of pride for his teammate, but instead he very nearly knocked his cousin in the head. “Oh, shit, Yuushi-”

“Kenya.” The slow drawl of the Oshitari cousin could rival even Zaizen in sheer laziness - it was a shame they couldn’t swap Oshitaris for the remainder of the school year, though Zaizen could have done without the way they both seemed to drag out the long pause of syllables between the first and second half of each other’s names. Zaizen wasn’t sure the purpose of saying his cousin’s name, but it seemed to work for the blond who managed to reign in his exhilaration.

“Oh, Kurarin looks so handsome out there all by himself!” Konjiki squeezed Hitouji’s hands tightly, his butt wiggling uncomfortably close to Zaizen’s hip. “Kuuurariiin!”

Zaizen took a step to the right to avoid contact with Konjiki, a scowl on his face. “Senpai.”

“He’s looking right at us.” Hitouji nudged Konjiki’s attention back to the court where Shiraishi had a bright smile on his face and was giving them a little wave. Konjiki and Oshitari both waved back with enthusiasm and Koishikawa had a similar smile on his face to the captain, but otherwise was able to contain his enthusiasm unlike the others. Zaizen took a more similiar approach to Koishikawa, though he diverted his eyes as Shiraishi’s soft brown eyes lingered a bit too long on the sidelines.

“Heh, Shiraishi looks all fired up.” Oshitari leaned his hip against the fence, folding his arms over his chest in what was probably meant to make him seem calm and collected, but instead looked like he was trying too hard to be cool. Zaizen would happily put money down on the fact Oshitari could very well topple over the fence before the match was over. “I bet he’s going to sweep the whole thing.”

“Sweep might be a bit too optimistic,” Koishikawa said, ever the realist. “He’ll win, though.”

“Of course he’ll win, it’s Kura.” Hitouji was ever the bright shining light of the group, though he was just as bad as the rest of them. It may have seemed like he was relatively normal by comparison to Konjiki, but in actuality his sense of humor and what he found entertaining was questionable at best.

“Oh, I wonder who Kurarin is going to play,” Konjiki interjected, releasing his hold on Hitouji’s hands to instead wrap around his waist. “I hope he’s haaandsome.”

“Probably not as much as Buchou,” Zaizen muttered to himself, though his comment went unheard in the bustle of his noisy teammates.

As they bantered amongst themselves about whether or not Shiraishi was going to win (obviously he was going to win) or if his good looks would rival his opponent’s (obviously his good looks would), Zaizen also leaned against the fence and swept his eyes over the court. Greece had several tall, physically imposing people on their team, and their superficial attributes didn’t differ much from player to player. They were all blonde with tight curls that laid flat on their heads, and they certainly looked more threatening with their broad shoulders and severe expressions than Shiraishi’s thin stature and composed smile.

While Shiraishi certainly had an attractive face and there was no doubt that many of the girls at Shitenhouji swooned when he walked by, it was the way in which he carried himself that Zaizen thought was most attractive. He was an open book - an extrovert who laughed easily, smiled effortlessly, and would endearingly chatter your ear off about his nerdy hobbies should you let him get started. He could remember the faces and names of every single person he met no matter how insignificant the meeting, and he was vocal about matters important to him. Even his jokes and comedic timing was appealing, even though Zaizen would never admit that to anyone or especially to Shiraishi himself.

He was a stark contrast to Zaizen who considered himself an introvert with a dry sense of humor, preferred to spend time talking to people online rather than real life, and would often say exactly what was on his mind, filterless, and with little regard for how it could negatively impact someone else. That quality alone oftentimes had him in trouble with his captain. But, for all of the ways they were different, they also shared many hobbies - they both enjoyed singing and performing, had an open heart for all animals, and they both valued family and their home.

Shiraishi had taken him by surprise once again in his first year, when they had gone out together for the first time. It was nothing elaborate - they went to a movie and then out shopping afterwards, but it was the first time he had spent time with any of his teammates outside of tennis, and Shiraishi couldn’t have been a better candidate. He learned that day that he and Shiraishi not only shared a sexuality, but they were both passionate and outspoken against the lack of rights for LGBT individuals in Japan. Zaizen had known from a young age that he was interested in both boys and girls, but it wasn’t until Shiraishi that he had met someone offline who shared that interest. It had frankly been quite startling, but made him feel hopeful for their budding friendship, and Zaizen had valued it ever since.

He and Shiraishi may have been opposites, but it was the way they complimented one another that Zaizen felt particularly drawn to. He was tentative to give his idle thoughts any sort of meaning - feelings were weird and confusing and Zaizen believed it better to leave them for the time being - but there was little doubt that there was at least a little something special he felt.

As what came with the territory of feeling those special feelings, however, Zaizen knew something was wrong before the others noticed. The other player from Greece was entering the court - the captain, it would seem, who stood a good foot shorter than the rest of his teammates - and Shiraishi had grown still, his usual composure faltering. It was not like Shiraishi who felt relaxed before a match no matter how ill he thought the outcome. His shoulders were tense, his stance guarded, and his lower lip had disappeared between his teeth.

“Buchou…” Zaizen drew the attention of the others who looked back to the court. Their expressions mirrored much like how Zaizen was feeling inside.

“What’s wrong with Kurarin?” Konjiki had let go of Hitouji’s hands to instead curl them into Zaizen’s uniform shirt. “Oh, Hika~ru. What is he going to do?”

“Senpai, let go.” Zaizen muttered again, but he didn’t put much effort into moving away.

“He looks wigged out.” Oshitari leaned his weight on his cousin, motioning toward the court. “Maybe he’s just feeling a bit nervous - you know, first time playing in something of this scale or something.”

Hitouji tilted his head. “Yeah, maybe, but that’s not like Kura.”

No, it wasn’t like their captain at all. Zaizen frowned, looking back at Shiraishi who still had not moved from the sideline. He could see the thin tremble in Shiraishi’s hand holding onto the racquet that would normally be held with confidence; the gentle flips of his hair sticking to the back of his neck where sweat had pooled despite the lack of activity. It was more than Shiraishi feeling wigged out - it was like something had frightened him, though there was nothing in the vicinity that could have possibly contributed to fear.

“He~y! ‘Nosuke!”

The moment was interrupted by Tanegashima striding onto the court, stepping in front of Shiraishi, and making the beginning motion of rock-paper-scissors. He was the number two junior player in all of Japan, and he had been a bit of an enigma at best. The expression of bewilderment on Shiraishi’s face was welcome if only because he was at least displaying a reaction unlike the display from before. As Tanegashima’s finger pointed downward, Shiraishi’s head naturally followed the movement, and ultimately lost him the game.

That was one way to snap him out of it. A strange way, perhaps, but a way nonetheless. 

“My win - I’ll take it from here.”

Tanegashima stepped past Shiraishi to approach net where Greece’s captain was waiting with a patient smile. Zaizen watched as Shiraishi all but stumbled off the court toward the direction of his fellow Team Japan members. It took all of Zaizen’s willpower to not jump out of the crowd to follow him and demand what had happened out there, but fortunately he could practice better constraint than most.

According to Oshitari’s cousin, there was a rule that was different from usual that allowed for the lineup to be swapped at any point before the beginning of the match. It was certainly better than a forfeit, which had Shiraishi not entered the court to play could have been a very real reality, but none of it made any sense to Zaizen. Shiraishi had never been one to freeze before a match - nerves or not, it just went against every part of who he was as a person. It had to be something else, but Zaizen couldn’t even begin to imagine what it could be.

Throughout the match Shiraishi watched it unfold along with Tokugawa and Oishi from near the entrance to the waiting area. Greece’s captain was an impressive player, but Tanegashima moreso, even if the points were heavily tilted in Greece’s favor for the majority of the match. Tanegashima’s tactics were a bit offbeat, but effective. But, while Zaizen’s attention would normally be on the match itself, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from his captain even as Tanegashima began to take game after game much to the bemusement of Greece’s bench.

Fortunately for Japan, Tanegashima was able to secure the win to lead them into the next round against Australia. The matchups had been lined up back to back, there would only be a small window of opportunity before matches would begin once more, and Zaizen knew he had limited time to corner Shiraishi before he joined the rest of the first stringers. He had to dodge Oshitari’s wildly waving arms and wade through the cheers and sounds of hands clapping together in celebration, but he didn’t want to lose his chance.

“Buchou!”

Shiraishi turned at the sound of his voice, a brief moment of surprise on his face that then melded into a warm smile. His smile could part even the most heavy of clouds. “Zaizen, what are you doing down here?”

“What was that?” He blurted out, his own usual composure slipping.

“Eh?” The way that Shiraishi’s head tilted when he was confused was irritatingly cute; it was a habit that Zaizen was unsure whether or not Shiraishi even realized he had. Zaizen’s stomach did a somersault. He thought it should calm down.

“I mean… back there.” He finished a bit lamely, his sense of decorum catching up with him as he slipped a hand into his pocket. A nervous habit. “It was weird.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it was a bit of a first, huh?” Shiraishi looked a bit sheepish, rubbing his hand over the bandage wrapped around his arm. Zaizen wondered absently if he was wearing the gauntlet - Kirihara had excitedly told his roommates upon their return from the mountain just how badass it was that Shiraishi-san wore that every day and still played so well. At the time Zaizen had felt a twinge of embarrassment that he hadn’t known about it himself, but it hadn’t been common knowledge.

“It’s just not like you.” Zaizen shifted his weight to his hip, his hand heavy in his pocket. “I - we wanted you to play. Kenya-san thought you were going to sweep, even. That’s how it should’ve been.”

“Kenya said that?” Shiraishi’s laugh was lighthearted - much different than how he had been before the match. “Sounds like him - let’s get the match over and done with quickly so we can move onto the next one, right?”

“Buchou.” 

“I mean - it made me really happy that you - that everyone - was there to cheer me on. Your cheers reached me, I just had a moment of panic and I felt completely inadequate, but I’m okay, and I have some things that I can take back with us and-”

“Buchou.”

Zaizen wasn’t sure what feelings there were that compelled him to encircle his hand around Shiraishi’s arm, lifting it ever so slightly so that he could brush his lips gently against the bandage. Once more Shiraishi’s body grew still, but Zaizen hoped that this time it wasn’t for the feelings of inadequacy he described or whatever it was that he had experienced on the court, but instead for the welcome element of surprise that he could only so often inflict upon his captain. Shiraishi wasn’t taken off guard often, but hopefully...

He lingered for only a moment before he gently lowered Shiraishi’s arm, looking directly at the “Japan” stitched into the jacket rather than at Shiraishi himself. While he was typically very difficult to embarrass, his cheeks grew warm as the weight of his impulsive actions settled around him. He also wasn’t one to act impulsively without careful consideration of his impulsiveness (an oxymoron, he knew), but if it mirrored the fact that Shiraishi himself had been acting strangely, well, he did what he needed to do.

Green eyes hesitantly raised to look up at Shiraishi who to his credit looked surprised, but not… _surprised_ surprised. (Or whatever that was supposed to mean.) Zaizen wasn’t quite sure what to make of that look, but he wondered if maybe it was best wondered about rather than asked. Sometimes that was for the best, anyway. If the continued somersaults in his stomach were of any indication, he was going to start acting completely different from himself.

“Thank you, Hikaru.” The warmth was evident in Shiraishi’s voice as he touched his hand to Zaizen’s shoulder. By the tone of his voice, the specific choice of name, and what such a simple word could do to Zaizen’s stomach, Zaizen knew that Shiraishi had won this round.


End file.
